I virtually met my husband two years ago around Valentine’s Day. Although our houses are less than 100 feet away from each other, we met via his friend request on facebook. We sent messages and status comments for a month or so before he actually asked me out.
Our first date was dinner and a rather depressing Liam Neeson movie. I misjudged our booth’s distance from the floor at dinner and almost fell face-first after only one margarita. Surprisingly, he asked me out again and took my son and me to a drive-in movie (probably figuring if I fell again, at least it was dark and nobody would see me). Nevertheless, when he kissed me goodnight, I felt the old, familiar butterflies in the stomach sensation.
We dated for months before moving in together, and we got married a year to the day of our first date. We’re not “spring chickens”, and we have had the usual growing pains and pangs of a newlywed couple.
I know I can be insensitive and have a one-track mind when I am working on a project. I am not the easiest person on Earth to live with. He has his little quirks too. He wants certain chores done a particular way and does not give a whit if others get done at all.
As we approach Valentine’s Day and our first anniversary, the giddiness of new love has settled into comfort with each other. However, sometimes when he kisses me, I still feel butterflies.